Runnin'
by QuasiOuster
Summary: Interconnected codas to season 3's This Sorrowful Life and season 5's Spend. Michonne and Daryl help each other with their choices to come back from the darkness of their tragedies.


**_Author's Note: I still don't own any parts of The Walking Dead. Still not profiting or intending to profit._**

 ** _Here's another one I started eons ago and picked at every once in a while and then it became a casualty of free-time constraints. I've long wanted to explore why Michonne went back to the prison after Rick's decision to sacrifice her and I had also been thinking a bit on some of the themes at the end of this past season along those lines. She made her choices about being part of a new group, and now she's having to sit by as others make theirs. This is probably as complete as I have time to make it, so I'm letting it go. There's a lot about it I like about it, though._**

 ** _And I got a lot done on The Left Turn this weekend. Not a bad two days of progress! I hope you enjoy this interim story._**

* * *

Michonne was sitting against a tree on the outskirts of the prison when she noticed Daryl's return. Her sword was in her lap and she stared at the towers in the distance, wondering at the intentions of the people behind those fences. Were they satisfied? Did they feel remorse? These frustrated musings called attention to the pounding in her head from where Merle had hit her and she'd fallen. Her wrists hurt. She rubbed at them absently.

She didn't acknowledge Daryl's presence, not when he'd changed his direction to approach her and not when he sat down beside her. He was sullen and silent. Alone. It didn't take much guesswork to figure out what he'd found at the end of his search for Merle.

Her thoughts were all over the place, weighing the pros and cons of walking the rest of the way back to the prison. She could survive out here again, of that she had no doubt. She could find two more "pets" for protection, gather supplies and leave both Rick's group and the Governor's Woodbury to play out whatever territorial drama they needed to. She'd make her way to the coast and find a nice, quiet place to settle, free of other people and their complications.

However, it always came back to what she'd be leaving behind—Hershel and his family, Carl, little Judith, Andrea. Had Rick been just doing what he had to in sending Merle after her or were his people no better than the Governor and his ignorant, complacent flock at Woodbury? Could she trust them to watch her back during the time it took to defeat the Governor?

Merle had made it sound like Rick had been the only one to make the call, but had all of them known about it? Voted on whether to bargain with her life? She didn't think so—at the very least, Glenn and Maggie wouldn't have let it happen and she would have picked up on something suspicious as they'd spent the morning securing the prison perimeter; thinking back on it, Daryl had been acting odd then. But what if she was wrong on all of it? She'd always been able to trust her instincts. It's what kept her alive. This is the first time it felt like they were failing her.

She feared what she'd find back at the prison: the guilty faces of people who thought her expendable.

The sun was still up, but it wouldn't be for long; they had maybe another half hour or so of solid daylight. There was sure to be someone on watch in the towers to open the gates no matter what the time. Still, they had to be worried about Daryl if his concern about someone following him held up.

Her, maybe not so much. That'd been clear when her fate had been left to a racist, redneck mercenary who'd probably used his one final display of remaining humanity to spare her. When she and Merle had been playing mind games with each other, she'd insisted that Rick would have changed his mind about turning her over to the Governor. It had worked to get Merle talking, to considering what his actions would mean to his brother and any hopes of a future that would be worth fighting for. She still couldn't figure out if she believed her own hype about Rick Grimes.

At the time, she'd certainly wanted to believe that Daryl and Rick wouldn't have sold her out, not after the trip out to King County with Rick and Carl and not after she'd stood by Glenn and the group against Merle's plan to sabotage the meeting with the Governor—a plan that would have avoided this whole mess. Not after she'd _tried_.

Her frustrations began to boil over once more.

Daryl shifted beside her and lit up a cigarette. She'd never seen him smoke, but that didn't mean anything since she didn't know any of these people that well. Clearly. She'd thought finding that formula had been a sign that it was time to return to people. It wasn't.

He eyed her for a moment before turning away, eyes raw from crying probably. He flicked some ash, went back in for another taste. Then he extinguished it and returned the shortened stick to his pocket.

"You runnin' off now?" he asked, straight to the point.

"Don't know," she replied, honestly.

Daryl nodded. She sensed his understanding of her crossroads.

"Governor got 'em. Merle took a good number of 'em out with him, though. Won't be too long 'fore he comes looking for revenge."

Michonne wasn't surprised that's how it went down. Merle had done it for his brother, tried to make it so he'd have a better shot at some kind of a life, even if he'd had to lay down his own to make it happen. He'd released her with a heavy mind and heart, no doubt from the seeds she'd planted during their conversations. She hadn't been willing to bet her life that he'd make that choice, though. It's why she hadn't followed him. And it's why she didn't know if she wanted to give these people another chance to prove her loyalties wrong. Not after Andrea or after Mike and Terry. Not after the price she paid with Andre.

But Daryl had paid a price too just now. From the short time they'd known each other, he'd been straightforward, fair for the most part, and willing to contribute. He'd given her credit for her attempts to fit in. Had that been a sign of something? She'd seen so many sides to him since they'd met—the little brother learning to stand up for himself, the protector and enforcer, the survivor, Rick's lieutenant. She'd also seen the softness to him when he held that little baby and his vulnerability with Carol. She'd seen the conflict of his devotion to his brother warring against his loyalty to his new leader, wanting to do the right thing but having a lifetime of not knowing how.

Yet he still thought it worth his time to figure it out, test what it meant to be a good man in this world. He was sitting beside her continuing to try.

"Merle wasn't good for much, but he was the only family I had worth a damn, and he wasn't even that for half the time. Fucked things up worse for me pretty much anytime he was around. He was such an asshole." Daryl shook his head, lost in bad memories and conflicted grief.

"Yeah, but he was your asshole, right?" she clarified.

He met her gaze for a beat and then let out a strained chuckle of release at her remark, a strangled cackle that got caught in his throat before it could turn into a sob. She joined his brief laughter, their sentiments dying on both their lips only moments after it had appeared.

For the first time since he'd joined her, she gave him her attention. She gave him her sympathy and condolences. She gave him her forgiveness.

Michonne felt for Daryl. He didn't deserve any of this. He'd given her his respect, all be it as guarded as it was with everyone else, save Rick and Carol. Maybe she wouldn't have made his choice if she'd been in his shoes. What mattered was that the choice weighed on him because he'd suffered the consequences right along with her.

Forgiveness was all fine and good. It was a lack of trust for him and Rick and the others that held her back.

The sky was dimming as the sun approached the edge of the horizon. Daryl made no move to get up, despite suggesting he needed to return to the group with news of the Governor.

He turned to address her somber profile. "I know Merle was trying to do the right thing."

Michonne nodded. "He was." She could give him that confirmation, that last comfort of the kind of man his brother could have been.

Daryl dropped his eyes and looked away again, kicking at the dirt at his feet. "Rick too."

Her lips pursed in response. The silence stretched on.

"Can't tell you what to do. But the Governor is out there lookin' to make whoever he can get his hands on pay. We could still use your help takin' him out. After that? Whatever happens happens." He stood up and brushed his dusty hands off on his dirty pants. She noticed they had traces of fresh viscera and blood on it. He picked up his crossbow and strapped it on proper. Beside him was a bundle she hadn't noticed earlier. When he hefted it on his other shoulder, she could see that it was filled with guns. They must have come from whatever he'd discovered at the Governor's meeting place; remnants of what had transpired that ended in Merle being dead.

It could have been her and the end of those barrels. She tensed and looked away, anger bright and raw.

Daryl stood above her still, watching her reaction. "Only me and Rick and Hershel knew, and Hershel wanted no parts of it. You wanna run off, I don't blame you for it, but know how it went down."

"So you and Rick decided? And Merle was right that you got him to do your dirty work?"

"Rick decided. I backed him up. Merle went off on his own to prove somethin' 'fore Rick could get his mind right on it. Glenn and Maggie didn't know and wouldn't have stood for it if they did. That's the truth of it and I'm sorry 'bout my part in it if that's what you need to hear. You been square with us, helped us. I aint gonna lie to you no more. You can take off if you want, but you aint gotta be out here alone. Not if you don't wanna." He reached into the bundle and set down two guns and a box of ammo, an offering if she chose to dismiss them. They were small but portable. He held her gaze for a few moments—sincere, sad, determined. He then turned to leave for the prison road.

Before he got too far, he shouted back. "But if you're gonna stay, hurry your ass up. Too many walkers bunch up 'round the front when we open the gate at night and we can't see a damn thing. And I aint gonna kiss your ass about this after today. So you better get it while you can."

Despite the seriousness of her decision, Michonne allowed herself to smile as she watched him go. She didn't follow. She had a lot to think about still, and it would be dark soon. When the light went out, where did she want to be?

* * *

As she saw Daryl walking down the street in their new Alexandria neighborhood towards her, Michonne thought back to the day when she'd sat with Daryl under that tree. Trying to decide whether to take her chances back out in the dead world or join the prison group to defeat the Governor felt like years ago.

She still wore the dress she'd put on for Deanna's party. Except she'd left early, unable to commit to the life percolating in that room. Sure she'd put on a brave face at first, enough to get a few of the skeptics in the group to start mingling and putting forth an effort. She and Glenn had made a pact to do their part to help heal their family, no matter how hard it was for them to go through with it. Seeing everyone making do, she'd drifted to the fringes of the gathering.

She'd stood with Sasha for a bit on the porch, neither of them speaking. Their relationship was complicated; they recognized too much in each other right now to be close. But Michonne accepted that she had to try, for the sake of those who'd tried with her. And deep down, amidst all the anger and grief and fear, beyond the numbness that covered that up, Sasha acknowledged that connection too, even if she resented Michonne for it most of the time. This was one of those times when she didn't, her in her lovely dress readying herself to go through those doors to do as she'd promised Deanna. Michonne remaining on the outside looking in. On the surface, it's like it had been back in the prison, before Sasha had lost so much where Michonne had gained.

The two women stood together, collecting themselves in their party clothes; their costumes in this new production in Alexandria. Without ever sparing a glance or a word her way, Sasha took a deep breath and approached the door. After watching the woman hesitate before going in, Michonne had taken her leave back home. It was up to Sasha to do the rest.

As she'd strolled down the dark empty streets alone, the absence of her sword adding weight instead of lightness, she heard a scurried movement behind her and instinctly reached for the weapon that was no longer there. But it was only Sasha, running away. She hadn't lasted five minutes in there.

It was longer than Michonne expected. She didn't try to follow.

Now sitting on the porch steps of the new house she shared with the Grimes family, Daryl and Carol, this life felt heavy on her shoulders. She had wanted all this for them, her new family. She had pushed them towards it when she saw them falling off the edge one by one. And now it was her sitting alone unable to adjust, unable to reach the broken young woman, so similar to how she had had been only a few short weeks ago; unable to reach the strangers that those closest to her had become lately: Rick, Carol, and sadly, the man climbing the steps to sit beside her. He'd been the one to pull her kicking and screaming into the fold and now he was the most distanced of everyone.

Daryl followed her gaze to where the gate entrance appeared in the distance. "You thinkin' of runnin' off?" An old joke. She flashed the smallest of smiles.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question? Haven't seen you around." He'd been like a ghost anyway, even when he was right next to her. He'd struggled since they'd reunited, but something had changed when they reached Alexandria.

"Just workin' some stuff out." Michonne nodded at that. "How's the cop gig?" he asked, a little bit of a bite to it, but not what it could have been. Something about her and Rick's new positions had gotten under his skin, and he'd been unwilling to talk to her about it.

Michonne shrugged. She'd only been a constable for a day. There wasn't much to say about it that Rick hadn't already discussed with him probably. Maybe it was petty of her because she knew he and Rick were close, but if he wanted to talk to Rick instead of her about the things they used to discuss together, then he'd have to live with that choice.

But he was trying. She could concede that. He always had with her, more than any other person in this world.

"You didn't miss much at the party. The food was okay and who doesn't love an open bar? But the music was terrible. No Allman Brothers Band. No Prince, even."

He laughed softly at her joke, a callback from some of their road trip arguments long ago. Searching through his pockets, he pulled out the stub of a cigarette and lit it with a lighter that he must have found somewhere.

"You look nice," he said, blowing out a stream of smoke with his head turned away from her. "Almost like a real girl." She reached over and shoved his knee where he sat facing her against the porch post, and they both smiled at his teasing.

"Somebody's in a good mood."

Daryl frowned and stubbed his cigarette out, apparently having just wanted a quick taste of nicotine from his limited stash. "Not good enough to go to that dumb party. I got as far as across the street and then bounced. Knew that shit was gonna be lame."

"So where've you been all night then? Got yourself a girlfriend? I've seen some gals giving you the eye. Obviously they haven't gotten close enough to smell you."

If it were better lit, she was sure there'd be a blush to Daryl's cheek. "You know you aint one to talk about smellin' bad. Not after I had to ride with your clumsy ass after getting them pigs for Rick." They'd gotten the pigs, but Michonne had definitely been a casualty of that acquisition having slipped face first into the mudhole they'd found the animals in.

"That wasn't my finest hour."

"Wasn't your finest whole damn day. Had to hose down the truck after we got back."

"I tried to help."

Daryl scoffed. "You'd helped enough." He kicked his leg out in front of him, careful to avoid where her own feet were planted on the steps. His hair ruffled in the breeze that had just kicked up in the mild evening. It was nice to see the hint of a grin that played at his lips at the shared memory. She hadn't seen him this relaxed since they were at the prison.

"So if you weren't entertaining a new girlfriend, what have you been up to? Glowering, pacing, what?" He nudged her with his foot at the digs.

The seconds stretched on and Michonne figured he would keep his whereabouts to himself. She lowered her eyes trying to hid her disappointment at another measure of distance between them.

Finally, he looked back towards her, his arm resting on his raised knee as he leaned back. "Naw, I was out with that Aaron guy earlier. He offered a spot for dinner so I took it."

"Oh, so you got yourself a new boyfriend." The glare he sent her only elicited a genuine laugh from her. "I'm just teasing, Daryl. I like Aaron. Eric too. I'm sure they were good company."

Daryl nodded. "Aaron wants me to go out with him now that Eric's out of commission. Don't want him goin' no more anyway after what happened with us. I told him I would. I think it's for the best."

"Best for who?" she was quick to challenge. Maybe he really was runnin' off, something he'd gotten on her case for time and time again.

Biting his lip, Daryl, dropped his gaze and picked at the hole in his jeans. "Best for everybody, I guess. Somethin' aint right for me being here with nothin' to do. Makes me jumpy. Might do something to mess it up for the rest 'a y'all. Being out there's what I know."

Well, she appreciated the honesty of that. And she understood it. "It's not all you know." He continued to fidget, ignoring her assurances.

"Aaron says he thinks I can help pick the good folks from the bad ones. Not sure I believe that anymore after all this shit." He waved towards the gates. The prison? Joe and his crew? Losing Beth in Atlanta? Too much had happened to put into succinct words.

"I believe it, Daryl. Always have." She smiled weakly at him, knowing that it would take more than her faith in him to restore that confidence she'd known back in those early days of meeting him. Looking away, she again felt the weight of the last few weeks pressing against her emotional boundaries. "That's what I told Aaron when he asked me about you. I said there was no better person to have his back than Daryl Dixon."

Daryl nodded, not surprised that she'd known more than she'd let on. He accepted the compliment with his usual evasiveness. Aaron must have told him anyway, how he'd asked her what she thought of his idea. It was a good start to their relationship if the two of them were going to be relying on each other.

She and Aaron had spoken about a lot of things. He'd openly expressed his gratitude for her trusting him when he'd shown up at the barn. They were a lot alike they discovered. All the days that he had watched them, he'd recognized what she was to the group, how she held them together. He'd hoped that he could have approached her first, but she'd always stayed too close to the others. When she'd stood up to Rick, he could tell that she saw past their dire circumstances and hopelessness, but still understood the stakes; and she'd recognized him for what he was—the guy who held the key to a life of something better than wandering and suffering and fear.

It remained to be seen how the group would adjust here, but she had helped him give everyone a chance at something. It was in their hands how that shook out.

She caught Daryl staring at her profile as she'd gotten lost in thought. "He told me y'all spoke on it," he confirmed. "I think he wanted you first, the way he talked about it. But Deanna beat him to it, and he knows you need to be here."

It was Michonne's turn to scoff, an involuntary reaction. If that were true, why was she sitting out here instead of with the rest of their friends at Deanna's right now?

"You're a survivor. More than any 'a us. And you're the one with the instincts. Seen through all the bullshit to what's right. Woodbury, us, this." He gestured again to the community around them. "You were right about the Governor and I get it now, why you had to be out there. For us and for your own reasons."

"I'm sorry, then." Her lips tightened thinking back on that time. "What I was? I don't want that for any of you. I recognize it—in Sasha and Rick and Carol." She turned to him. "In you." He held her gaze. "I was like that for a long time. Alone, furious, hopeless; so scared of ever even trying to be a whole person again. You _know_ what I was like, Daryl, up until that last run when you called me on my shit."

Daryl nodded. "Yeah, yeah, and now you gotta call me on my shit. I get it."

"Yep, that's how this works." She could see the warmth in his eyes at her jest.

"And I get what you're trying to do gettin' us someplace safe where the kids can actually live," he continued. "And I get why you're sittin' out here instead 'a in there with the rest of 'em 'cause I been there too. Just like you been where I am now."

"Thank you," Michonne returned.

The distance between them closed a little. It was enough for tonight. She sighed and pulled her knees in closer to stave off the breeze that had turned chilly.

Daryl nudged her with his foot again. "You better get inside with your fancy party digs and stop tryin' 'a be cute. If you're sittin' out here waitin' on me to kiss your ass some more, you gon' freeze your ass off 'fore that ever happens."

"Oh, I've learned that lesson well, Daryl Dixon." Still, she remained on the porch with him sitting in comfortable silence, each thinking about the decisions they'd make tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.

Finally, she uncoiled and shook his ankle that rested near her, indicating that she would head inside and leave him to keep watch. Instead of acknowledging the gesture, he stared at her with an intensity she hadn't expected.

"'Fore we left on that last run, I didn't say that shit to you 'bout runnin' off just 'cause I thought lookin' for the Governor was a fool's errand. I said it 'cause I missed you; wanted to close. It don't matter now, but that's the truth of it. We been through too much for me to bullshit you."

That had been two or three lifetimes ago. They were different versions of themselves now.

"It matters." She stood and took the two steps to where he sat. Leaning down, she gently kissed him on the lips; he returned it, albeit with a moment's hesitation. She stood and squeezed his shoulder as she turned to go inside, leaving him to his thoughts and the consequences of his decisions.

Before she could fully retreat, he took her hand and kissed it, a gesture from the last time things had been good for them and between them. She had vowed to give up her wandering; maybe see where their mutual attraction could take them and follow through on his suggestion of what else she could learn about him when she stuck around for more than a few hours. But then she'd been ambushed and an old enemy had shown up at their front door with a tank and changed everything for them. The in-betweens from then and now were huge—losing and finding each other again, almost dying, discovering that Beth had taken her place with him and the damage done of his having lost both of them in a way. They couldn't go back to the promise of that time.

She appreciated the sentiment though.

Daryl pulled at her hand to get her attention before letting her go. "Rick, Carol, and I have been stakin' the place out. Figurin' out how to get our hands on some guns, just in case we need 'em."

"Need them for what?" She narrowed her eyes at him. His news didn't surprise her. The fact that he was telling her about it did. Except Daryl wasn't going to reveal everything to her. She could see the conflict on his face. He didn't respond.

"Don't know what's gonna come of it. I guess that depends on what Deanna has in mind and how folks act with us around. Just wanted to let you know 'cause I promised I'd always be honest with you, and I aint gonna keep shit from you no more after what happened last time."

"And Rick and Carol? How are you gonna handle that?"

Daryl shrugged. "Aint gonna handle it at all. You gon' talk to 'em about it?"

Michonne took a moment to consider it, but she'd always known the answer.

"No. Rick will tell me when he's ready. Carol won't, but he will. Hopefully, before he does something foolish. I knew something was going on with the three of you already." She squeezed his shoulder again. "Thank you for trusting me."

"If I aint here, I know you'll keep an eye on both of 'em." He looked up at her and she nodded once. Some things didn't change between them and their code to protect their people was one of them. This time, Michonne did retreat to the door to head inside before everyone else came home and asked any questions about where she'd been.

"Hey, Michonne," Daryl called out again. She looked over her shoulder and paused. "Keep the dress. I like it."

She rolled her eyes, but grinned as he smirked at her. She went inside and closed the door on him, grateful that she got to call him family and hopeful that they'd again get to navigate this new life together.

Whether here in this house, patrolling the gates, or outside protecting and building their community, she knew where they'd both be when the light went out.

 _Fini_


End file.
